


The Last Day of Dogma’s Life

by My_Dear_Feather



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anger, Clone Trooper Culture (Star Wars), Clones fighting, Depression, Harassment, M/M, Sadness, Tension, sad but happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:46:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29605461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Dear_Feather/pseuds/My_Dear_Feather
Summary: After Umbarra’s events, Dogma is to be executed. In his last moments, alone in his cell, he can’t help but think about some painful memories… He was harassed by many brothers, but one day, someone had wildly defended him.
Relationships: Dogma & Hardcase (Star Wars), Dogma/Hardcase (Star Wars)
Kudos: 12





	The Last Day of Dogma’s Life

He felt empty. So empty of emotions. They had been drying his heart for years, stabbing his soul with every word, and so all that remained of him was a miserable shell about to be thrown in the ground, barely murdered.

Dogma was cold, alone in his meager cell, on his knees on the middle of emptiness and this was how he was gonna die: ignored, and soon forgotten. Alone, like he had always lived. And yet, handcuffed in his cell, his eyes wandering, waiting for his execution, his death had never seemed so clear.

After Umbarra’s massacre, they had thrown him in one of the Republic’s cells, without a single word. Dogma didn’t need one of the guards talking to him though, for him to understand what awaited him now. But it was after his trial at the court martial, which only lasted a few minutes, that all seemed to become real. And suddenly, he was so afraid of dying.

None had spoken to him for days and days where he had stayed in these two feet large cell, and so he often had the feeling of being only an object carried from proceedings to proceedings. None had cared about giving him food: what was the point, since he was about to die?

He wasn’t even worth his miserable clone status anymore, he was worth less than the slave his thought he was. But all that didn’t mattered now. Because the only thing he still possessed, people were about to take it from him. His life.

So he had cried. Curled up in a corner of his cell, for three days, tears hadn’t ceased to flow on his cheeks in the simple refusal of his death, the impossibility of total nothingness he then would maybe live for eternity. But still without a sound. Because a soldier doesn’t cry and faces his destiny with his back straight.

He had often repeated this to himself when the tears wouldn’t stop, even when he had forgotten why he was crying. But it had never been him. Dogma had never been brave, he just pretended to be so in the hope of growing up the ranks.

So, when the day of the start of his new life and the end of the one he knew arrived, he wasn’t feeling anything anymore. Emptied of all strength and of all hope, he wasn’t crying anymore and just waited his minutes to come to an end.

And during those last minutes of waken peace, Dogmas didn’t think of his action, not of Krell, not of the regret nor the gratefulness Rex had shown him in his last look. His mind naturally flew to Hardcase. Dead for the 501st, dead for him.

***

Maybe it was a weapon he had dropped, or maybe it was a simple pen, but it didn’t matter because Fives’ reaction would have been the same regardless of the object Dogma has unconsciously sent to the ground, when passing near the large tables of the 501st’ barracks.

‘Hey, chakaar, don’t bother to apologize!’

Dogma wasn’t a brawling clone. Some of his brothers spent most of their time fighting, mostly against boredom, well he wasn’t one of them. Contrary to what the clones told about his continuous reprimands, his remarks about the rules and what they were allowed to do or not, Dogma was never looking for conflict, and actually hated it. Moreover, since this kind of insults more or less represented his everyday life, the clone wasn’t even paying attention to it anymore.

‘Yeah, that’s it, stay quiet for once…’

So it was by pure reflex that Dogma had walked passed Fives without a word nor showing the slightest emotion reaching his mind already bombarded with problems. But unfortunately that evening, Fives was far too much bored and had decided to play with his favorite toy, unfortunately he didn’t want to give up on that silly pen affaire. Unfortunately, this time, everything was different.

‘… Anyway, you’re only good at being the officers’ good dog.’

Dogma stopped dead. He was a few meters away from Fives now, but not far enough not to hear those last words. He had been hurt hundreds of times and he now knew what he had to internally repeat to himself in order to do nothing else than walk away.

‘It’s nothing. It’s just a clone who is bored when you were around. He dropped his pen on purpose to make you mad.’ But it turned out his first mistake had been to have stopped walking.

‘Oh, I think Dogma’s mad, guys…! Well, where’s your rules manual, cadet? Two mean brothers made you eat it so that you finally shut up?’  
‘Fives.’

It was Jesse. Even without seeing him, Dogma was sure of it, because these two were always together and Jesse was by far the most respectful of the pair. Dogma knew by experience he hated when Fives had fun tormenting clones. The most accessible ones. The weaker ones too, if he had to be honest with himself. However, rare were the times Fives actually listened to his friend and made his tongue go back to his throat.

‘If you want my opinion, he either mysteriously became dumb, or he finally decided to shut his mouth when he realized he pissed everyone off…’

A few discrete laughs resonated and Dogma was unable to know if they were sincere of forced. But anyway, it seemed impossible to leave after having heard these words against him. By simple instinct of insulted Mandalorian, Dogma felt his leg rising, then the other, and turning, then slowly – with so straight steps he looked like he hadn’t walked for weeks – headed towards Fives who was never taking his eyes off him, and firmly keeping his arrogant smile attached to his mouth.

Around, none rose to stop him. Neither Jesse, nor Hardcase sat a few meters away, nor any brother. Once in front of him, Dogma simply stared at him with disgust and hatred which could have made him vomit. And yet, it was his own face observing him in return. Like he was about to fight against himself. In this tensed silence where all the clones had stopped living to watch them, his lips parted:

‘All I realize is you still haven't decided on shutting your own mouth…’

His tone was powerful, full of anger and spit, but his voice was shaking with fear, in the anticipation of his audacity to say something for once! And inevitably, Fives laughed in his face in front of this little display of weakness. Then, he rose to face him. There was no need to be a few meters away to notice his enemy was ten times bigger than him – Dogma had rarely appetite – and probably twenty times more muscular. If they fought, he would have no chance. But it didn’t stop him from continuing:

‘… So if you have something to tell me, open it wide and say it in front of me, not like the kriffing coward you are. And think about what you’re gonna say…’

‘I know what I want to say, chakaar’ Fives replied, his voice not shaking at all but rather making the ground under Dogma’s feet vibrate, ‘I was wondering how you could still possibly walk next to him while you have nothing to do in the 501st.’

‘I could say the same to you’ Dogma answered, nearly smiling, ‘at least, I deserve to be here. I worked then was selected. I wasn't just lucky that one of my friends gave his life to have my mission declared successful and to have my butt end up on that bench.’

‘Kriff you!’ Fives exclaimed, spitting and making a threatening step towards his enemy, ‘you don’t know what you’re talking about! I’m here because I knew how to think by myself to survive without an officer’s pet like you to give me orders! Clones of the 501st are known for possessing free will, that’s why we’re here! We all here know how to make decisions, except you. You want me to mention every time we almost died because you’re not capable of adapting yourself to the situation?!’

‘Yeah? And those times precisely, who almost got us all killed by rushing headlong towards the enemy to play the hero, without even evaluating our other chances? Brothers are really dead on the battlefield because of you! Just because you act on instinct… for glory.’

‘And look who’s become the ARC trooper… and who’s stayed the same anonymous clone and hated by all.’

This time, Dogma stayed speechless, as if daggers had been planted in his whole body one after the other. These words had killed him inside, above all by the fact looking the others around them was only confirming this. All thought the same as Fives, their silence proved it. Meanwhile, the clone in front of him seemed to the verge of jumping with joy when seeing his face fall apart, beyond tears. And instead of savoring it, he wanted to add some more:

‘… What’s sure it that you’ll never get the slightest gratitude from Rex, you’ll never climb up the ranks among us. How can you not understand that? If your status matters so much to you, then go ask to be transferred and let us leave in peace.’

At this point, he had more or less killed him, but at least, he was no longer smiling. He seemed to be pitying Dogma now, like a corpse definitely inferior he wanted to push with his feet because it obstructed the way and disgusted the passers-by but which, in truth, wasn’t mean.

And so, Fives was telling what Dogma had always minimized, denied: he had never been accepted by the others like a brother part of the battalion. After all, who would have liked to think they had the same status as him? It was only proving, once again, his brothers’ coldness towards him, his exclusion…

‘And you?’ Dogma asked with a little voice.

All the room blinked like one clone. But was it by surprise in front of this broken tone of a brother generally so harsh and proud, or because he still dared to speak after the words that had scratched his face like violent punches? The silence was intense. Fives raised his eyebrows, not understanding where he wanted to lead him. So Dogma continued with the same weak voice:

‘You really think you’re better than me? You seriously believe you’re superior? While you keep sticking your nose in other people's business, deliberately getting them into trouble because you like that? Look around… what do you think you’re doing right now?’

The clone bravely looked Fives in the eyes, then threw a hateful look to the others sitting there and doing nothing to help him.

‘Or rather what are they all doing? They shut up, because it’s always simpler than facing your kriffing mouth to tell it to shut up.’

Fives burst out laughing and some others followed but none of these laughs lasted very long. Then, the silence returned and Dogma’s voice, more confident this time, seemed to resonate and vibrate like the ARC’s did a few minutes ago. Because it was for the clone in front of him and for all the others around:

‘I think I understood none here considers me as his brother, but at least I respect you all. Fives, is there a single clone in this room you haven’t caused problems? Is that how you like your brothers? Or is it me being stupid like usual? Because if it’s not the case, if that’s how it’s like to be in the 501st, then I’m very happy not to be considered as one of yours.’

He didn’t wait for the ARC to reply this time. He knowingly showed him his back then began making a few steps towards the door, moving away from him in a pride that disgusted him. Because it wasn’t a won battle but a lost one: the truth Fives had spat to his face and which he had been denying for long, had shattered him and for a moment, he thought he indeed had no other choice but to go ask to be transferred in another battalion.

‘Between you and me, Fives’ he added without looking at him, ‘there is only one who is pitiful and that’s not me. Because I’m not the one who plays the hero, but who is deep down pathetic. I’m not the one who receives medals but who is, in reality, useless when it comes to saving people that really need me! Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten Echo?’

‘Shut up!’ Fives spat, getting closer to him with tight fists, ‘don’t pronounce his name when you’re precisely the clone people never need! The clone people never count on! You think you’re not pitiful and you dare giving me lessons about the way I love my brothers, while in all your life, the only thing that matters to you is climbing up the ranks?! You make no sense, Dogma, and that’s why you’ll stay the same until the end: useless and anonymous.’

As soon as the last syllable of this word came out of his lips, they were instantly slashed by a violent punch the clone literally sent crashing against the ARC’s mouth, as if he wanted to force him to swallow his words right back.

Because there was probably nothing more disgraceful and destructive – in other words, nastier – than telling a clone he was nameless. Their name and reputation were more or less the only thing making them individuals and distinguishable from one another.

So anonymity for a clone meant ‘you don’t exist’ in this huge army of fellows and this insult could not – under any circumstances – have held Dogma’s fist which hit the ARC with full force.

Unfortunately, the pure sensation of satisfaction he felt the second that followed vanished very quickly because Fives immediately replied and soon, nothing could be seen except a blurry tornado of blows sent from right to left, hitting the adversary with infallible precision but instantly hit by an equally fierce response.

Despite the determined fight he gave, Dogma was soon outmatched by the ARC trooper’s additional training and was thrown to the ground, then straddled too easily to his liking, although his nose was already bleeding.

He wanted to finish this fight knocked out or putting Fives in a similar state, so when the clone raised his bloody fist to strike right and definitively move his nose out of his ordinary place, Dogma decided to proudly accept it because at this point, only pain or the drying up of his impulses of hatred by blows could calm him down.

Contrary to what his blurred sight let him see though, the blow came from the right, and it wasn’t a fist either but a knee. Difficult to discern whose knee it was so soon but it was clear a wild clone had suddenly come from nowhere and had literally leaped on Fives.

Thunderstruck, Dogma painfully opened his eyelids to see above him, among the entanglement of limbs fighting, a large hand gripping him by his blacks and fiercely pushing him – even lifting him a bit – away from the fight.

On the floor tile, he ended up at Jesse’s feet, the man had by the way his mouth opened with incomprehension in front of the two clones fighting, and when Dogma turned his head towards them, he understood his emotion.

Hardcase was firmly holding Fives’ head between his knees, exactly the weak position Dogma had been in a few seconds ago, and was letting off all his rage on the ARC who had visibly been taken by surprise seeing from his reaction.

The first thing Dogma directly thought about was ‘he was harassed by Fives too’ but that wasn’t making any sense since Hardcase was often hanging around with the ARC.

So, eyes widely opened like the clones around, he questioned himself on the reason of this passioned hate while Jesse and other muscled clones rushed towards the two brawlers to try and separate them.

Pushing Hardcase aside from Fives wasn’t easy and it was clear that once done, the clone still on the ground had a hard time recovering from the shock of the blows and the easiness with which the clone had overcome him, the ARC trooper, the great hero of the 501st.

As for Hardcase, he didn’t have a scratch on his face when he rose, abruptly breaking off the two clones’ embrace that tried to calm him down. He hadn’t said a single word – not even a cry – during all the fight and didn’t speak more before leaving the room. He must’ve thought his action had spoken in his place.

The only thing Dogma knew for sure was that they had shared a look for a second. Without smiling, without nothing, just a look. As a ‘Thanks’, as a ‘You’re welcomed’.

And then, he went out of the room with a dark look, calm steps and a door slam meaning a god had just left the room. So it was then easy to deduce what there was to deduce from it, though Dogma wasn’t sure of what he should think this time. His shock surpassed all the rest. His anger had disappeared. And a strange unknown vibration was resonating in his body.

Kix arrived a few minutes later and directly rushed towards the poor Fives, a lot more injured than him. And when the medic arrived near him afterwards, Dogma still hadn’t moved. Curiously, Fives’ presence didn’t bother him anymore and the ARC wasn’t grumbling either: it was as if Hardcase’s intervention had disrupted it all. Kix healed his eye first and his cheek before taking care of his bleeding nose. He was so delicate Dogma wasn’t even feeling him.

He opened his eyes. His cell around him reappeared and seemed smaller than before. Hardcase had so fiercely defended him that day. The very thought was still making his heart jump and his throat tighten. Pity than the innocent Dogma had so little self-esteem that he couldn't consider such a thing.

Hardcase was the only one who truly and entirely appreciated him for what he was. Fortunately the clone had ended up admitting it to him, with his sweet lips. At least he had died with bravery. At least they had lived some beautiful and extraordinary things together. In a clone’s life, it was all you could ask for. Live fully and die honorably by saving brothers. Hardcase had done it, and Dogma too.

So there was no regret for the shot Krell had received. No regret for the violence of the words and the blows taken right in the face that evening in the great room of the barracks. No regret for the pen he had dropped.

‘It’s time. Bring him.’

There was no tears. Of course, all had already been given to Hardcase’s memory. There was no point crying for something so stupid. However, his heart jumped when hearing that voice: the fear probably, but again, nothing to be worried about.

Death scared everyone. With his last magnificent strengths in this living yet hopeless impulse, Dogma rose in front of the guards who made him leave his cell to slowly bring him towards what he now wanted and was gently whispering, in a nearly envious tone:

‘I’m coming, Hardcase. I’m coming…’

**Author's Note:**

> No, I have nothing against Fives, I love Fives but someone had to be the guilty… Fox can’t be the bad guy everytime!


End file.
